


From Sunnydale to Los Angeles

by summers-maclay-lehane (ofstormsandwolves)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Post-Episode: s05e12 You're Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofstormsandwolves/pseuds/summers-maclay-lehane
Summary: When Angel doesn't make it to the Cat and Fiddle for drinks with the team, Wesley comes looking for him.Or, I'm still annoyed we didn't see anyone else find out about Cordy's death.Or, I'm grabbing canon by the horns and flinging it through the nearest window





	From Sunnydale to Los Angeles

“-But that’s impossible,” Angel said with a frown. “She’s standing right-” He looked round to see that his office was empty. “I’m sorry,” he said into the phone, still confused. Where was Cordelia? She’d been right there when he’d picked up the phone... “Yeah. Uh, so when did she die? Did she, uh... She never did wake up. I see.”

He hung up the phone then, staring at nothing. None of it made sense, and everything made sense. Cordelia was gone, and she’d never really come back to him in the first place. If his heart could beat it would be pounding in his chest. He lifted his head, everything slowly sinking in. “Thank you.”

* * *

He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, he sat in the dark at his desk. One by one, his friends were disappearing. First Doyle, now Cordy. The two people who’d started the journey with him were gone. It was only a matter of time before something happened to the others, particularly given the fact they were working to bring down Wolfram and Hart.  


Angel pulled a desk drawer open and retrieved a slightly creased piece of card. His old business card, from when they’d been at the Hyperion. Since coming to Wolfram and Hart, they’d obviously had no need for them, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of them. Tilting the card so that the light from the windows highlighted the card’s logo, Angel traced the shape gently with his finger. The only remaining mark that Cordelia had been part of the team.

“Angel?”

He looked up at the sound of his name, blinking as he saw Wesley edging into his office with a confused smile.

“We’re all waiting for you down at the Cat and Fiddle,” Wesley reminded him quietly. He looked around the office and saw that they were alone. “Is Cordelia using the restroom?”

Angel sniffed, leaning back in his desk chair and tapping the edge of the card on the desk absently. “No.”

Wesley’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Angel?”

Angel clenched his jaw before leaning forward, dropping the card to clasp his hands and rest them on his desk as Wesley came closer. He met the other man’s eyes. “She’s gone, Wes.”

“Where?”

“No, Wes. She’s _gone_. The hospital phoned me.” Angel stood as Wesley’s brow furrowed further. He started to pace, voice growing louder as he spoke. “She never woke up. She was never here. Not really. And she’s not going to be joining us for a drink, and she’s not coming back.”

“But she was here,” Wesley said slowly, voice soft as he processed everything. “We talked to her. Hugged her.”

“Yeah,” Angel sniffed, jaw twitching in frustration. “The Powers that Be owed her one, she said. This was her swansong.” 

Wesley slowly made his way across to the sofa, sinking onto it. “She’s really gone, then. Sort of renders the celebratory drinks null and void.”

Angel shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at Wesley across the darkened office. “I couldn’t face any of you,” he admitted quietly. “Cordy told me to say goodbye to everyone for her, but I couldn’t bear to go see you without her.”

Wesley blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes. “Did she... Was she in pain?”

“The doctors didn’t say so.” Angel shook his head. A wry grin tugged at his lips as he recalled their final conversation. “She did get the final word, though.”

A quiet chuckle came from Wesley at that, as he nodded slowly. “Of course she did. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A heavy silence fell then, the two men lost in their own thoughts.

“I need to tell everyone else,” Angel said quietly.

“No you don’t,” Wesley countered calmly. “Not right now. Not at all, if you don’t want to.” At Angel’s confused look, he gave the vampire a small smile. “If you need me to be the one to break the news, I-” he trailed off as his voice broke, and he took a breath to compose himself. “I’ll do it.”

Angel surveyed the other man for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted slowly after a moment, frowning as he mulled it over. “She was the last of us originals. It was me, her, and Doyle. Now there’s just me.” He grimaced. “I sort of feel like I owe her, you know? Like I should be the one to break the news to everyone.”

Wesley nodded in understanding, though didn’t seem wholly happy with the response. “Everyone will be wondering where we’ve got to,” he stated softly.  


Angel nodded. “We should go meet them. No sense dragging it out.” But he made no attempt to move, and neither did Wesley. 

“I know I wasn’t one of the original team members as you put it,” Wesley spoke softly in the darkness, “but I fought alongside the pair of you in Sunnydale. I might not have been in the team until months later, but we’ve had each other’s backs for years.” He met Angel’s eyes, his own damp with tears. “What I’m saying, Angel, is could we perhaps have one last moment to honour Cordelia’s memory? Just us.” He gave the vampire a sad smile. “From Sunnydale to Los Angeles. Strangers to family.” 

Angel returned Wesley’s sad smile at that, and crossed the room to pull a bottle of scotch and two tumblers from his bottom drawer. “Just don’t tell Spike where I keep my alcohol,” Angel warned with a wry smile.

He took a seat beside Wesley, placing the glass tumblers on the table and pouring two drinks. The two men raised their glasses in a toast as they shared a small smile.

“To Cordelia Chase,” Wesley said. “My life was better with her in it.”

Angel smiled sadly at that. “Cordelia Chase.”

And sat in the dark of Angel’s office, the two men sat side by side and drank their scotch.


End file.
